The Weird Little Mantra
by colossalray
Summary: Jason's favourite bar develops an unwanted bird infestation. No slash (Though could be read as such if you squint)
1. The Clock stikes

Hello again! I've decided i'm going to try to write a fic for the holidays i celebrate, since my Christmas fic went down pretty well (i think)

And as an atheist, i don't celebrate a lot of holidays, so i don't have to work too hard! It's a flawless plan.

Also these kinds of fics work best with my school schedual.

Yay!

And, since i'm apparently good at writing him: More Jason!

For ages see my other fic since i point blank refuse to list them again. (because i seriously don't care) since this is set only a freaking week after it.

I'm considering making this multi-chapter, so let me know what you think.

oh yeah, and happy holidays.

Title: Mantra

Verse: Preboot DCU (In continuity with my other fic "Christmas with Todd" but can be read as a stand alone)

Pairings: None (intentionally. Read as any ship you want)

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, sexual themes, and mentions of child prostitution and rape

Rating: T

Summary: Jason's favourite bar has a bird infestation

New years is a boring holiday.

I never celebrated as a kid because staying up late and getting inebriated just wasn't my cup of tea back then...obviously.

Now it's pretty much all I do besides dressing up in a costume and shooting people.

To be honest I never considered it to be something really worth celebrating. Another year ends and a new one begins and nothing changes besides the date.

Nevertheless, since I came back to Gotham after my ressurection I would visit an old bar Willis used to go to (when he wasn't out being one of Two-Face's bitches) on new years. (I get the impression that he didn't want to spend a lot of time at home. Can't say I blame him completely - I know first hand that taking care of hardcore addicts is fucking exhausting) that is, if i'm not already incarcirated. I remembered it because in amongst that box of stuff I found my birth certificate in all those years ago, there had been a few matchboxes with the bar logo on it.

The place was pretty low down on the food chain - the glasses are always greasy (occasionally there's even lipstick marks), their peanuts suck, the drinks are watered down and the central heating system doesn't work properly, but hey, it has it's perks, too.

1) It's in my territory, so there are plenty of nearby safehouses to stumble to after a long night.

2) It's full of attention starved women

3) I have a very good repuation around here. Do the math.

4) The barman knows my ID is fake and doesn't give a shit. (Although i'm past drinking age I AM legally dead, afterall)

5) New Years isn't a big deal here.

6) and the manor is too far away for any of my "family" to find and annoy me.

Or at least, so I thought.

"Hey sugar." I could feel long nails on dainty fingertips just barely brush against my back. There was a cloud of obnoxious perfume invading the air. It was cheap and flowery, but not entirely unpleasant. "This seat taken?"

I looked over my shoulder at the platinum blonde behind me. I sat my drink down - I was halfway through my second pint of beer - and broke into my best attempt at a charming grin. "Not at all." She sat down carefully on the barstool to my left, shifting the skirt of her green dress to avoid flashing her underwear, meanwhile exposing a lot more leg, which was smooth and slender and looked fairly long for someone who couldn't be any taller than 5ft 3".

"What's your name, handsome?" she said, leaning forward on her elbows and pushing her breasts together between her arms.

I give her a grin and answer. "Jason"

"Kiesha" she tells me, just as Sam the barman approachess her.

"What'll it be, miss?"

"Rum and coke, if you don't mind" 'Of course he doesn't mind. It's his fucking job' I can't help but think.

"Right away" Sam says as he sets to work on getting her drink and taking other orders.

We both watch him in silence as he fills the glass and leaves it in front of her. She smiles, carding a hand through her hair, and thanks him politely, taking a sip before turning back to me. I smirk at her.

"So tell me, Kiesha. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much like P Diddy did you feel this morning?"

She laughs. "Eleven"

We talk for a while, flirt for longer, until eventually we're drinking vodka shots together.

I knock back my third and laugh when she slams her shot-glass on the counter. "I like this drink! Another!"

She makes that reference after every shot. Every. One. She's had five.

Then she's giggling like a schoolgirl and she turns to me. "How about we set the new year off with a bang, eh?" I take the hint. Her eyelids are a bit droopy and her elbow slips off the counter, and I wonder if saying yes would make me an even worse person than I already am.

"I donno. You're pretty drunk." I say.

"So?"

She wobbles a little, then turns away to pour herself another shot from the bottle she insisted Sam leave with her.

Yeah, I can't go through with it. Pretty as she is, it'd be wrong to take advantage of her like that.

I try to think of a rebuttal, and just as the words are about to pass my lips, I feel an arm lace it's way around my shoulders and hear a voice I really wish I didn't.

"Hey Jay! What a surprise to see you here!"

Dick.

All traces of a smile vanish immediately from my face. I turn my head to give him a sideways glance. "I could say the same thing about you"

'I was just taking Timmy here out to celebrate the new year" He pulled the replacement close with the other arm.

"Apparently it's a disgrace that we haven't before now." Tim added, looking irritated. Something tells me we both didn't want them to be there.

I take another shot and shrug Dick's arm off, just as Kiesha asks; "Jason, who are your handsome friends?"

"They're not my-"

"We're his brothers! I'm Dick," Dick places a hand on his own chest, then spreads his arm out to guesture at the replacement. "And this is Timmy!"

"Tim" the boy corrects him, offering out a nervous hand to the girl. "Nice to meet you,"

Kiesha takes his hand and shakes it once. "It's nice to meet you too, pretty boy,"

Tim blushes and turns away and Dick laughs. I could tell he'd been drinking. His breath reeked of it. (Or maybe it was mine. I was already pretty drunk by this point)

"Well, i'll just get outta yer hair, shalla?" She says, standing up from her stool onto shaky legs. "It was nice meeting you boys" she says, handing me a napkin.

"Call me, 'kay pumpkin?" She winks at me and then staggers away.

I feel someone punch my arm. "Haha! He shoots he scores, right Jay?"

I give Dick a cold glare. "Go away. Get your own damn bar."

Dick makes a fake affronted face and Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm offended Jay! Don't you wanna spend new year with your brothers?"

No. I don't.

"We're not brothers." I grind out behind clenched teeth.

"Sure we are! Bruce adopted you, Bruce adopted Tim. Bruce adopted me. Therefore we are -officially- brothers. Right Timmy?"

Tim looks so uncomfortable. I'd pity him if I didn't hate his guts.

"Ugh, yeah. Sure." He mumbles, hopping onto the empty barstool that used to be occupied be Kiesha.

He summons the bartender and orders a beer.

I decide to ignore Dick in favour of annoying the kid. I lean over to whisper in his ear: "Go on Tim. Order the appletini. You know you want to. I won't judge you."

Smirking, I pull away and watch as he calls back the barman.

"On second thought, make it a vodka martini" Close enough.

"Shaken or stirred, Mr Bond?" Dick wonders with a shit eating smirk.

"Shut up" Tim said. He turns to me. "And don't you go thinking I changed my mind because you told me! I just remembered how much I hate beer, is all"

I fake cough the word "pussy" at him.

Sam looks at Tim suspiciously and he shows the bartender his driver's license again. I nudge him with my elbow. "Can't believe you're actually legal, kid. You don't look it,"

The replacement gives me the stink eye.

"It's the baby face and the fifteen year old's body that gives you away." I continued.

He was getting progressively more flustered and Dick was laughing like this was the funniest thing ever. "I don't have a fifteen year old's body! You just have a distorted perspective,"

"Keep telling yourself that kid." I give him a nudge and a wink and he hides his face in his hands.

"I hate you so much."

I just laugh while Dick orders a drink for himself and explains to Sam that he shouldn't listen to me and that Tim actually is as old as he says. Sam assures him that he takes everything I say with a grain of salt anyway and that it's okay, but Dick keeps explaining anyway.

I think that maybe having them around wouldn't be so bad.

A problem with me, as a drunk, is that I often over-share. I can't tell you how many people i've told I was Robin. Somewhere around two dozen. Luckily, nobody believes me and thinks i'm just being silly (probably because they're mentally picturing the pretender or the little demon and looking at my 6ft 225lb self and simply can't see it or something).

So that night when the ever curious Tim started asking the personal stuff I, regretably, just told him the truth.

It's almost midnight, and we're talking about sex as we wait for the clock toll. We'd eventually left the bar counter and found ourselves a table to sit at together. I didn't exactly want to sit with them, but you you've just got to surrender if you want to make it through the night.

"Okay, okay, who were your first times?" Tim asks, looking between me and Dick.

Dick answered first. "Kory. Starfire. It was great."

I roll my eyes. "I can imagine. She's a babe. No offense." I look at Dick apologetically (Gimmie a break, i'd been drinking since 9PM. I'm allowed to be stupid)

"None taken." Dick assures me with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Mine wasn't" I admit finally. "At all. Not even a teenie weenie bit. Great, I mean. It wasn't great."

Dick's mouth falls open in a little 'O' and looks at me sadly."Aww, why Jay? Who was it?"

I shrug. "That's the thing: I don't know." Both of them look at me pityingly.

"That blows. First time should be personal. It's supposed to be special. Like me and Kory were."

I blow air upwards at my bangs. "Hey, at least I got payed for it."

That's when Dick slams his drink down on the table and stands up, bumping the table on his way up. "WHAT? She payed you?"

I scratch the back of my neck and look away. "He did. I was as starving nine year old and he told me if I did it he'd help me."

Tim and Dick look like they want to tackle hug me at that moment and I hide my face in my hands. "Can we talk about something else now?

"You were a prostitute? How come I didn't know about this?" Tim wonders. I couldn't see his face, but I imagine it'd be somewhere between dazed, sad and pissed.

"Maybe because it's NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, DRAKE!" I lift my hands away from my face as I yell, I spit a little and the kid shrinks away from me.

Dick rests a hand on my shoulder. "Okay, okay, easy now Jay, just calm d-"

"CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN?! YOU CALM DOWN!" I slam my hands down on the table. I could feel the stares of the other patrons on me. "THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, SO CAN YOU JUST LEAVE IT?" and with that I stand up and leave the table.

I kick the bathroom door open, and storm in, fists clenched. I needed to break something; anything, or I thought i'd shatter into a million pieces. I see a mop and bucket in the corner beside me, and kick it over hard enough that it flies through the air and crashes against the bathroom wall. I snap the mop in two. I then punch the wall beside me, shattering the cheap tile, and punch it again, and again, until my knuckles are bleeding and theres a sizeable dent in the drywall. When I started to leave bloodsmears on the wall, I realised I needed to stop, and ran my hand under the cold water to soothe the fresh cuts.

I look up to stare at my reflection in the mirror, and I hate what I see. I see someone who doesn't sleep, for fear that all the bad things he's seen and done will come back to haunt him. I see the deep purple circles under his eyes that prove it. I see a whore, a thief, a charity case, a fool, a murderer. I see a failure. I hate that man in the mirror.

So I punch the mirror. It cracks, shards crashing into the sink below and imbedding themselves into the already tender skin of my hand. I wince and take a step back, cradling my hand in the other, and when i see the fragmented, smirking face staring back at me in the mirror, I collapse to the soaking floor below the sink, lie down in a ball, and try not to cry. (Read: I weep like a toddler)

I leave bloodsmears on the toilet seat when I throw up into it, clutching on for dear life, and it just keeps coming. Every time i think it's safe and I go to wipe my mouth on my hand, more comes up.

I know the wound in my hand will get infected, but I can't bring myself to care. I didn't even take all the mirror fragments out.

I'm throwing up when the door opens. I can hear people counting down collectively outside it, and the shuffling of feet as someone staggers into the bathroom.

"Jay?" It's Dick's voice. "You still in here?"

The sound of my heaving answers him.

He rounds on the stall and finds me hunched over, crying and bleeding. It's not exactly how I want him to be seeing me; so fragile and cowardly.

"Oh Jay" He whispers sadly, crouching down behind me and rubbing soothing circles on my back.

"Go AWAY" I shout, and my voice cracks. I sounded so pathetic I winced.

He doesn't though. Instead, the just reaches forward and combs my bangs out of my face with his fingers. "Poor little bird." he whispers again and again, like a mantra. "What have you done?"

I have nothing else in my stomach to present to the bowl below me, so I turn around to scream at him. "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, DICK!" but again he doesn't listen, instead pulling me back so my head is resting against his chest. He strokes my hair...affectionately? Wiping away the tear tracks which still stain my cheeks he continues with his weird little mantra.

I try to pull away, but he holds me down tight.

"Happy New Year, Little Wing." I could hear the sad smile in his voice.

"Go fuck yourself."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one here that's had sex when they didn't want to."

I turn my head to look at him. "It doesn't."

"I was in shock. I'd just let her kill someone. I really didn't want her to touch me. But she did."

"Fucking riveting,"

"Don't be a smartass, little bro." It's good to know that even as a quivering mess on the floor, i've still got it. "C'mon, Little Wing. Let's get you outta here." He looks over his shoulder at the door. "TIMMY!"

And just like that the replacement is there to help drag me out of the bathroom.

"Can you walk?" Drake asks.

"Of course I can fucking walk." I say, but in truth i'm not sure at all. They let me go and I stand up, immediately wobbling to our table to grab my jacket, to the bar to pay off my tab (Dick pays for my vandalism, which was nice) and towards the exit.

I've barely left the building when I feel someone grab my shoulder. I try to ignore him but Dick is adamant when he yanks me around to face him.

"C'mon, Jay. The night's still young. Don't go home so soon." He gives me the puppy dog eyes while Tim just stares at him, poised at his side. I can tell he wants to yell at Dick "What the fuck are you doing?" (Or something to that effect). I wish he had.

"Dude, I smell like puke. Ahm going home." I tell him.

"Then we're coming too!" Dick cheers, roping his arm around the Replacement's shoulders again. "Besides! Timmy's not even drunk yet. He's been faking it all night!" Pretender is such a fitting name for this kid. I am so proud of myself for thinking of it.

He doesn't say anything.

I sigh dramatically. "Fine, but no sabotaging my things like the demon brat did when he payed me a visit. Nearly got me killed, the little shit."

Dick gives me a sharp slap. "Don't say that. He's just a baby!" and then suddenly Drake can't even hold himself up he's laughing so much.

I ignore them both and start walking away towards the tiny apartment closest to the bar.

"Jason wait up!" Dick cries, stumbling after me and dragging the still giggling Tim along by the hood of his winter coat.

"And they call ME OCD," Drake comments as he surveys the apartment. Everything is in it's place. Bed made military style, clothes neatly folded and put away or hung up in my wardrobe. Kitchen's pristine, all dishes put away in their designated cupboards. Everything is spotless, aside from a light layer of dust collecting

"In my defense, I don't use this place often," I inform them, hanging up my jacket of the coathanger by the door. "But yeah, I like things orderly. So hang your coats up or i'll break your spines."

Needless to say, they do as they're told.

"Beer's in the fridge. Liquor's in the cabinet by my bed. Have whatever the fuck you want. I'm going for a shower."

"Don't slip!" Dick calls after me. Fucking asshole.


	2. I'm so embarrassed

Sorry this took so long, preliminary exams and stuff - here's chapter 2, since a few of you requested it! Thank you to all of my reviewers - you really make my day. I must spend at least an hour everyday recently just refreshing my inbox hoping for another review or a fic update, so I thought i'd indulge myself and you guys with those delightful little emails. (That is, if I get more reviews, anyway.)

And a huge thank you to everyone that followed and favourited this fic as well. You guys rock!

I'm a little worried about my portrayals, particularly Tim's, so if anything doesn't seem right to you, let me know and i'll fix it, eh?

Also, forgive me if i mess up with terminology; i'm schooled in Scottish/English-English rather than the American kind, so some things may be different. That's what i get for writing Americans in 1st person i guess, so correct me if i fuck that up too.

Oh and before anybody goes there; no, I don't include disclaimers in my fics because I don't see the point. I'm not claiming ownership of something by writing fanfiction about or including it...otherwise it wouldn't be fanfiction. It'd be canon. Sweet, precious canon material I could wave over my head victoriously... That's my dream.

Anyway, enjoy!

Just a chapter or two to go, so keep a look out. ;)

Warning: Swearing, sexual sillies and a little depression

(Just in case anyone forgot: Dick is still Batman here, since this is set within preboot canon. comprende?)

*linebreaklinebreaklinebreak my linebreak isn't working linebreaklinebreaklinebreak*

I am so embarrassed. Alcohol has proven once again to be my foe: I'm one of those "Bottle it all up and let it fester until you snap and kill everyone" kind of guys sober, but hey, bring up a touchy subject when i'm wasted and well...I already told you what happens then. It's not the first or the last time, either, and to be honest I think I might be developing a drinking problem. Just throw it on the list of the thousand things that are fucked up about me.

I should probably stop. For one; i'm less likely to develop liver disease (which is a pretty common ailment on Willis' side of the family if memory serves. That and prostate cancer) and another; i'm also less likely to accidently knock down some of those crucial mental walls I keep built tightly around me like I did last night.

I won't though, just like I won't stop smoking. I've been doing it since I was a preteen, so why stop now? Sure, I get winded really easily in the field and my clothes permanetly reek of smoke and I know it's bad for my health, but guess what? I don't really care that much about my health to begin with. If I die again, well, so be it. This time though, I better get cremated.

Last night I let my "brothers" stay the night, partly due to the fact I knew they'd wake my neighbours leaving and partly because they'd never make it home as smashed as they were (We would not allow Tim to pretend to be drunk anymore - he was getting skunked wheither he liked it or not). I wound up sleeping on the couch while the idiots took my double bed (there was no way I was sharing with either of them.) So I woke up draped over the couch in nothing but a pair of sweats (I usually sleep nude, but I thought I'd spare them that at least) with a dick drawn on the corner of my mouth with sharpie and possibly the worst headache I'd ever had short of the time I had it bashed in with a crowbar.(Though to be honest they all seem that way at first)

It takes me a minute to figure out where I am, and when I do I immediately press a couch cushion against my face to muffle my screams.

I am so embarassed. I had first humilated myself in the bar, then brought the people I wanted to know the least about my life to my temporary home. (I brought all my DVDs, clothes, books and porn over a few nights before since my primary safe house had been infiltrated my some thugs under Two-Face (I got into a pissing match with him recently) The appartment was covered with things that contradict my thuggish persona. (For example; if you look to my bookshelf you'll find classics such as "Pride and Predjudice", "The Adventures of Huckelberry Finn" and "Don Quixote", nostalgic books from my childhood, and some contemporary stuff. I'm not ashamed to admit i've looked in the YA section, though Twilight really ruined that genre (If you can call YA a genre) for me, as since then most of it has been made up of supernatural romance bullshit. I was even so bold as to buy 50 Shades of Grey to check out the hype. 0/10 would not , fortunately, was sent straight to the dump where it belongs)

And of course Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee couldn't help but find it ALL.

I'm still lying on the couch screaming into the cushion when a hand reaches up from the floor to cease my ankle and squeeze- hard. With fingernails.

"Ow!" I yelp, moving the cushion away from my face and looking down at the person sitting on the floor wearing my sunglasses and eating cereal from a bowl perched in his lap. I just notice the TV playing quitely in the background.

Then suddenly he's tearing off the glasses to glare at me. "Why the hell would you do that?"

I sit up and cross my arms against my chest, dumping the cushion on the floor beside my "big brother". He shifts to sit on it. More comfortable than hardwood floors I guess.

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and screws up his eyes."What do you think? Why were you screaming?"

"I remembered last night, that's at least some of it." I tell him, reaching up to caress my throbbing head. I notice the untreated wound on my hand and proceed to glare at it. Apparently drunk-me had thought it was a good idea to scrub it with a nail brush and leave the wound open. "I should probably dress this."

"Dress what?" Dick follows my eyeline to the mess that is my hand. "Oh, right. Yeah, you should." he returns the sunglasses to his face and turns away from me and back to the cartoons buzzing obnoxiously on the screen.

"Right," I groan, getting up. Dick has already brewed some coffee, so i pour myself one and take a few paracetemol for my headache.I stand by the counter sipping it for a moment before deciding this coffee would be much better if it were Irish. I have a little liqour in the kitchen for cooking, but the good stuff is in the cabinet beside my bed, so I walk towards the bedroom and chap on the closed door with my uninjured hand. "You decent in there, Drake? I need in."

He doesn't answer. I chap louder. "DRAKE!" -Nothing.

I turn the knob and enter."YOU BETTER BE DEAD IN HERE OR SO HELP ME-" I am interrupted by The Replacement's hoarse voice at last.

"I'm up! Jeez!" and with that his groggy face emerges outside the mountain of duvet piled ontop of my mattress. "What do you waaahnt? And did you have to be so loud?" God, he's so whiny. First hangover? Surely not.

"My first aid kit and clothes are in here, genius." He doesn't need to know about my dependency on whiskey. I walk towards the dresser and open the top drawer, pulling out a plain white tee. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that The Pretender is staring at me with an amused grin. I pull on the shirt and turn to him. "What?"

He giggles. "Your face. It's still there,"

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the reassurance, kid. For a minute there I thought someone had stolen it."

Tim pulls himself out from the duvet and walks towards me. "Not your actual face, dumbass. I meant the thing ON your face."

I narrow my eyes. "Why, what's on my face?" I already have a pretty good idea. "You didn't-"

"Dick, actually," Tim answers, directing his gaze to the wall mirror behind me. I turn on my heel and see the thick black lines drawn across my face.

"Great attention to detail. He must look at a lot of them." Tim bursts out laughing behind me. He's standing on my bed, presumably to see over my head to catch the reflection of my expression. "I like the little droplets of cum leaking into my mouth. Very nice."

"I'm gonna quote you on that." Dick says as he enters the room, the soft thud of his bare footprints on the floorboards alerting me to his presence a few seconds earlier. "And i'll be telling be damned."

"Just admiring your handiwork, Dick. Now I know the true reason why they call you that." I brush my fingers along the stubbly drawing. "Nice work on the pubes. Still can't believe Batman of all people is stupid enough to draw a cock on my face, though."

"Anything I said or did last night I cannot be held accountable for." Dick smiles. It's like he's fucking made of sunshine. I want to knock his teeth out.

"That makes two of us." I say without looking away from the mirror. I lick the tips of my fingers and scrub at my cheek. The ink is solid. "Son of a bitch."

"Make that three." Dick and I turn to stare at the hobbit standing on my mattress in nothing but bright red underpants and thermal socks. "I said and heard some things last night i'd rather not remember."

"Get in line, Frodo." I say, turning back to the mirror. Damn, even with a spunking veiny cock on my face i'm still a handsome son of a bitch. I scrub harder with my nails on my dominant hand, which agitates the damaged knuckles into bleeding again.

"I think he's trying to say that you look like Elijah Wood or that you're short" Dick whispers to Tim in explaination, whose confused face I can still see in the mirror.

"I got that, Dick." he hisses back

"Both, actually" I say, completely ignoring Tim's response as I keep scrubbing, but it's going nowhere.

"Have you tried soap and water?" Tim patronisingly suggests. By then the blood from my knuckles is rolling down my wrist towards my elbow. I stop to wipe it up with a finger and suck it off. "Gross, Jason."

"Get over it." I say, walking away from the mirror towards where I keep my first aid kit on top of my liquor cabinet.

"Why do you keep your liquor next to your bed, anyway?" Dick wonders.

"I'm troubled." I answer as I grab the kit and discretely slide a small bottle of whiskey into my pants pocket. "Be right back. I have some personal business to attend to." and with that I leave and lock myself in the bathroom.

x

There is a knock on the door followed by Dick's voice. "Jason? You okay? You've been in there a really long time!" I know he's thinking of how I was last night as he knocks the door again. "Jay?"

"Shut up. It's not coming off, you fucking asshole! Leave me be!" In all fairness, i've only been scrubbing at it for five minutes. Bandaging my hand took a decade.

"C'mon Jase, open the door."

"No" I keep scrubbing.

"I'll just knock it down, then."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

"Then open the door!"

"No!"

"Alright, i'm knocking down the door."

"Don't."

"Here I go"

"You're bluffing"

"3, 2 -" I dive for the door and unlock it, yanking it open.

"There, happy?"

He strides into the room, triumphant. "I would have done it."

"I know." I fix him a cold stare. " I can't believe you'd threaten me with property damage. Being dead makes it really hard getting insurance, y'know."

He grins sheepishly in response. "Sorry." He's not sorry at all. "Just had to make sure you were alright."

If I didn't know better i'd think he was actually worried. "Since when do you care?"

Dick looks at me like i'd kicked him. I kind of wish I had. "Umm...since we met?"

I roll my eyes. "Suuuure. I believe that like I believe in the tooth fairy. Now do you mind? I still have your autograph on my face." I turn away from him toward the sink, and am instantly pulled back by a strong arm to look at him. "Need some help, Little Wing?"

I shrug away voilently. "No."

He puts a hand on his hip and cocks his head at me. He'd make Beyonce jealous with that kind of sass. "Uh huh. I'll believe that when I see it."

I meet him with tense silence, which, after a deep breath, he eventually breaks. "You smell like whiskey and menthol cigarettes." My mom smoked menthols. The smell reminds me of her. Shut up. "You weren't drinking whiskey last night, Jace."

I'm back to rolling my eyes. "Leave me alone, Dick. I don't even get why you're still here. Just go home already." After that, the hurt puppy face returns, and I maybe would have caved into it had it not set into hard determination. "No. You're all kinds of messed up and this is the first chance i've had to help you and i'm not passing it up."

I pretend to ignore him. "Close the door on your way out"

He does.

x

I leave the bathroom to find Dick and Tim on my couch, eating my fucking food.

"Hey Jay! You're out of bread and milk." Dick calls back to me when he hears me enter. I clench my fists.

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" I say.

Dick turns around to look me in the eye and smirks. "I thought you meant the bathroom."

"You and I both know that's a damn lie." I growl, shoving Tim into him so I can sit next to the kid. So far, he was the least annoying of the two.

"So, you're a Supernatural fan?" Tim says suddenly, watching my face carefully. I can already tell the conversation is about to go sour. Aww, fuck it.

"-Yeah. What's it to ya?"

"So am I. Who's your favourite character?"

I stop to think for a while before finally answering "It's a tie between Bobby and Crowley."

Tim purses his lips and nods slowly. "Hmm...I was almost sure you'd say Dean."

I shrug. "Dean is pretty cool. Can we move on now?" Tim nods.

"I see you like Disney movies." smirking little shithead. I rise to my feet and storm to the kitchen.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then!" The Pretender calls after me.

I stop at the coffee pot and pour myself another mug. Spike it. Sip it. Slurp it.

This is gonna be a long day.


	3. My own personal soap opera

Hey . Here's another update from your good buddy colossalray.

hahahha

ha

ha

I've been informed that Dick's first time was in fact not with Kory but with a girl called Liu...but i'm just going to pretend i don't now know that and call this a minor AU because i am far too lazy to go back and fix it.

Also i'm very sorry about some of my previous update's missing data...i don't know what happened there. All i know is that FF ate the middle of some of my sentences. So yeah, have fun deciphering that.

So here, have this huge pile of fanservice to make up for it.

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Stupid confusing references

This chapter is brought to you by the letter 'D'. (Since i'm using it as a line-break because i still haven't fixed it)

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD

I sit on the roof of my appartment building alone, watching as the cars glide through the melting snow on the road six stories down. I take a long draw from my second cigarette of the hour, inhale the dark, aromatic smoke deep, and huff it back out in rings.

It's freezing up there, but I keep my legs tucked up against my chest to conserve body heat, and ocassionally rub my arms vigiourously with shaking hands.

I finish the cigarette, grind it out, but I don't stand up just yet, content to just watch the world creep by. I like to imagine little stories for the people down below:-

-The skittish red haired man is walking his girlfriend's dog that he's just a little bit frightened of but afraid to mention it to her in fear that she'll dump him over it.

-The cyclist wears so much protective gear because her brother was in a motorcycle accident which killed him a few years back because he wasn't wearing a helmet. She still rides her bike to work everyday, but now she's a lot more cautious about it.

-The boy with the ball is playing by himself because his big brother told everyone he had lice and now none of his friends want to play with him.

-The teenaged girls dress "scene" not because they're depressed or even like the style that much...they just think they'll attract floppy haired sensative emo boys.

-The two women with the pram are just friends - the baby belongs to the Asian woman and her husband - but people keep mistaking them for an interracial lesbian couple. But secretly, the hispanic woman has romantic feelings for her married best friend.

I'm not exactly sure why I do this - all I know is that I strangely enjoy my stupid little personal soap opera.

I hear the door behind me open, then the sound of light footprints on the concrete roof approach me. I know the pattern: It's Drake.

"Hey Jason." he says timidly when he's only a metre away from where i'm perched. I don't answer him with anything besides and acknowledging shoulder roll as I turn my face away a little more.

"I'm sorry about how we've been behaving down there. I realise we've outstayed our welcome, and i've tried to convince Dick he's wasting his time, but..." he pauses a moment. I can feel his eyes probing me. I stay tensed and quiet and he sighs in defeat.

"Look, Jason, I..." but i've stopped paying attention. Across the street a known dealer is waving the 'scene' girls over. They can't be any older than fourteen, and the look he's giving the tall one is making me uneasy.

"Jason?" I hear Tim in the background. "You okay?"

I raise a finger to my lips and give him a sideways glance. He looks a bit frightened. "Shhh" I whisper. He stiffens visably and I turn away towards the street again, raising a hand to act as a visor. "Oh he is SO dead." I growl, standing up.

"What? Who is?" Tim's still there? I half expected him to leave in indignance after I shushed him. "What's going on, Jason?"

I turn to him, crossing my arms roughly against my chest, expression stern. "Bernie's dealing to kids and making googly eyes at them. We had an agreement that he wouldn't be doing that anymore." I tell him. "Especially if he wants to keep his head attached to his body."

Tim's eyes widen and I walk past him towards the door to the stairwell. After a beat of just standing there shell-shocked, Tim follows after me.

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?" his shrill voice rebounds along the walls.

I suddenly stop walking and he almost crashes into me. I turn to face him and I place my chin in my hand in thought. I smirk as I finally reply. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I should just castrate him. That'd be just as effective. Thanks Pretender"

Tim reaches forward across the three-step gap to grab me by my shirt. We're for once at the same eye level with each other. "That isn't what I meant, Jason."

I flash him a cheshire grin. "I know. The whole 'No killing, avoid maiming' thing you guys do. I get it. I know what you're thinking: 'What ever happened to just breaking bones and tying people up for the police to get them?'" Tim shakes his head 'No'. " I can tell you it's just a case of evolution. That method doesn't work in the long term, so i thought up a better one. Simple." Same crap i've been preaching for the last...six years? Wow, it seems that time flies when you're angry and miserable too.

Tim's face is so close to mine I can see the little black-heads on his nose clear as day. His nostrils are flaring and his face is twisted into a furious scowl, and paired with the striking blue eyes he really reminds me of Bruce and I don't like it. "Shut up, Jason." He snarls. That's when he headbutts me, releasing his steely grip in my shirt and watching as I lose my balance and topple backwards down the flight of stairs.

I hit my head on the landing, and my back and shoulders are likely bruised from the collison with the concrete stairs. I sit up slowly, pressing down on the most painful part of my throbbing head with my hand and groaning. I prop myself up against the wall, and look up at the spot a disoriented Tim is still standing in, looking horrified.

"Oww...You little shit" I groan. I hear someone exit their appartment nearby and start running into the stairway. Through my bleary vision I can see it's Mr Lewis. He has lived alone on the top floor since his wife died. He teaches art at the local highschool. He's about Alfred's age, with a dodgy comb-over and a stodgy belly. We've talked once or twice. He stands stalk still just like Tim four steps below him when he sees me.

"Jackson, what happened?" He asks concernedly, and Tim looks up at the name. Damn it.

"What-?"

"Oh, nothing, Mr Lewis. No need to worry. I just fell down a few stairs is all. No biggie." I say, cutting off Tim as I lean against the wall and force myself to my feet.

"Are you sure? Need me to call an ambulance for you? I'll pay for it if it's a problem." I can't help but smile at that. Good can be found in even the worst of places, it seems.

I keep my hand pressed to my aching head. "No, it's okay, really. I'm fine. I only fell down a few steps. Besides, Alvin here can take care of me. Right Al?"

Tim looks at me curiously before recognising his cue. "Oh, right. Yeah, yeah." He walks down the stairs towards me and offers me his shoulder to lean on. I wave him off. "Thanks for your concern though."

Lewis doesn't look satisfied, but nods and quietly turns back towards his appartment. I start walking back down the stairs, a little wobbly, with Tim at my heels.

When we hear the door finally close and bolt, Tim stops walking and turns to me. "Jackson? Really? You're using my middle name?" He doesn't look mad like I thought he would though. More amused if anything.

"Why not? It's basically Jason but with a couple of extra letters. I use a different fake name in each place I live." Tim nods.

"Hey, it's not like I haven't used your name in any of my aliases. I'm not exactly in any position to pass judgement." I laugh a little.

"What name did you use?"

"Todd Richards." That makes me laugh again.

"Really?"

"Really."

Still laughing, I remove my hand from my head and notice a small amount of blood on the bandages crossing over my palm.

"Damn it." I hiss, pressing it back on the wound.

"What?" Tim asks, watching me carefully.

"Head's bleeding."

Tim sucks in the air sharply behind clenched teeth with a hiss. "Ooh. I'm really sorry about that."

'No you're not."

He offers me his shoulder to lean on again, but I deny him, pushing forward down the last few stairs to reach the third floor, where my appartment is situated. Though not the most strategic of placements, it isn't the worst, either, as far as safe-houses go.

"Oh come on Jason. You're probably concussed. It's a miracle you've made it this far without landing on your butt. Let me help."

I turn around to glare at him. "I don't NEED your help, Drake. You're the one that pushed me down the stairs in the first place, remember?"

"And I said I was sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

"Yes you do. It's called anger. I made you mad, you hit me. It's how it works. Don't pretend to be an idiot, Tim."

That shut him up. He just stood there, staring sadly at me, so I turned around and walked back to my appartment, only stumbling a little bit.

DDDDD

"Right. That's it. Get out, Dick." I growl as i drop myself on the couch to lie down.

"What?"

"Get out. Leave. I need to be alone."

"Why?" Dick's standing awkwardly beside the couch now.

"Because I said so." He tries to sit beside my feet on the couch. I kick him in response. Not hard, but enough to give him the message. He stands back up.

"Did something happen?"

I lift my hand away from my head to show him the stained bandages, then press it back down. "Ask The Replacement."

He looks over to where Tim's standing anxiously in the doorway, watches as Tim fiddles with his hands, picking something out from under his fingernails. "Timmy? What happened?"

"He fell down the stairs. He's probably concussed." Tim answers, not looking up from his hands.

Dick looks at him skeptically. I pull a couch cushion over my face to block out the bright light streaming from the bulb directly above me.

"He pushed me" I add, my voice muffled by the object.

"What was that?" Dick's voice sounded out from way too close to my ear. I could sense him crouched beside me.

I lift the cushion a little. "I said he headbutted me. I made him mad and he headbutted me. Now leave me alone."

"Tim. Outside. Now."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, I mean..." I imagine he's guesturing at me. I can't see past the cushion. He then whispers something about me I can't quite make out. It's probably something to do with my condition. Why haven't these knuckle heads figured out that I know how to take care of myself? I've only been doing it since I was concieved.

"He'll be fine for five minutes, Tim." Dick's voice is still right next to me. I can imagine his head turning back towards me. "Don't fall asleep, okay Jay?"

"I know, Dick. I'm not stupid." I groan, but the heaviness of my eyelids is getting harder and harder to resist. I eventually decide to just ditch the cushion and sit up. Why is it that as soon as someone tells me not to do something it becomes the only thing I want to do?

I watch as Dick follows Tim out of the appartment and closes the door, and find myself staring blankly at it.

Drooping eyelids...Don't fall asleep...it's four PM, why do I want to sleep...

Maybe i'll just rest my eyes.

Maybe I am stupid.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I've barely retained consiousness when the Replacement and the guy I replaced return. I can't even think of a quippy remark. The only noise that comes out of my mouth is a weak "Hey" in greeting.

"Hey Jason. How you holding up?" Dick asks, voice soft, like he's talking to a little kid.

"Super-dee-duper. You can go now."

Dick rests his hand on my shoulder. I don't lean into it. I DON'T! "Oh Jase. You and I both know that's a steaming pile of crap." Dick smiles at me. "Not until we fix that head of yours."

"You're a dick, you know that?" I mumble as he pulls out a little flashlight to check my eyes with.

"Yes I do." He says, turning it on with a 'click' and waving the light before my eyes, and I try to follow it. "Yep, definitely a concussion." He confirms after a while.

"Great. Now leave."

Dick waves a deliberately disorienting finger in front of my face. 'Nuh uh uh. You still need us, Little Wing."

"Fuck off. I don't NEED anybody. I'm just fine on my own." I declare, folding my arms across my chest and shrugging off the hand which still perched on my shoulder.

"Okay then, Jay. Prove it. How would you deal with your concussion?"

I grin up at him. "I'd just sleep it off. I am so beyond the point of caring if I wake up or not." I kind of want to take it back as soon as I say it, because Dick's face just fucking crumples. He visibly deflates, sinking down closer to the floor, looking down and raising his shoulders up to his ears. "Oh Jason."

He surprised me when he pulls me into a tight hug suddenly, almost pulling me right off the couch. I surprise myself when I hug him back. Just lightly with one arm since he's pinning down the other one. I rub a few soothing circles on his back, just like he did for me last night, and he chuckles sadly. 'I'm trying to comfort YOU, you moron." I keep trying to pacify him though, because I still hate to see people upset over me, despite everything. I mean, i make people upset all the time, but I don't particularly like playing witness to it. I'm taken aback by how borderline teary he sounds.

I have a feeling that Tim was beginning to feel left out, because suddenly there he is, attempting to reach an arm over each of us to join the impromptu cuddlefest. I begin to feel really claustrophobic and want to escape, but I just grit my teeth and bare it because the golden boy needs this. Who am I to deprive the golden boy of something he needs?

Finally Dick and Tim pull away from me and I breathe a sigh of relief. Since the coffin incident, tight enclosed spaces and I haven't mixed too well.

"There, all better now?" I ask, giving Dick a sharp slap on the shoulder. He buckles under it a little and takes a step away, chuckling. I have to hold back a Doctor Hibbert joke.

"You are so stubborn."

Tim just rolls his eyes and settles into a comfortable position beside me on the couch with a sigh.

"Y'know neither of you have checked the back of my head for the blood yet. What's that about? I thought you guys were pretending to be my nannies?"

Both Tim and Dick look at each other with wide eyes.

"Do my ears decieve me?"

"Is this Jason..."

"...Asking for help?"

"From US?"

"The end is near, Timmy."

"Indeed. I fear the apocalypse may be upon us."

I roll my eyes. "Will you two just shut up? If it's a problem i'll do it myself..."

"NO!" They cry in unison. I feel like this has been scripted.

"Here, let me look at it.'' Tim says, indicating that I should rotate in my seat so that the back of my head is facing him. I do, and he shifts onto his knees to raise his eye level. He kneads through my matted curls with his fingers, examining the surface of my scalp. "Would it kill you to brush your hair?"

"Probably." Dick answers. I give him the side-eye. 'Sorry" he adds, before miming zipping his mouth shut. I hate mimes.

"There. It's just a graize. You're fine. Just being a big baby." I half turn to poke him hard in the ribs. "A big, excessively violent, baby"

"You keep digging that hole, Timbo."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

It's 6PM when the front door is hammered upon. I almost don't hear it over the "Queen's Greatest Hits" album blaring away in the background and the very loud, very terrible singing of one Dick Grayson.

The knocking becomes much more insistant however, so I tell them to shut off the music. The knocks sound from a low point in the door, and I know who it must be before I look through the peep-hole.

Sure enough, glaring up at me is Bruce's little Gremlin: Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

I take off the chain and swing open the door, folding my arms and scowling at the tween. "What do you want?"

"Out of my way, Todd. I'm here for Grayson." He says, trying to shove past me into the appartment. I block his path with my bulk.

"And how do you know he's here?" I smirk.

"Security cameras caught you, Grayson and Drake stumbling like bafoons in this area last night. I put two and two together and found the nearest place of residence purchased by anyone under any of your known aliases. This was the closest match. Since neither Drake nor Grayson have been seen by any one of their usual associates today, I figured they hadn't left." I nod in approval.

"Okay, why do you need him?"

"My father is stubborn and irritating enough to insist that I should not patrol tonight without him." Damian growls.

" Let me guess; 'The first day of the New Year is too dangerous for a kid to be patrolling alone'?" Damian nods.

"Which is completely proposterous since I am clearly not not a child...but yes, that is what he said."

It seems that irrationality and stubborness runs in Bruce's genepool. I laugh."Yes you fucking are, shortstuff." Damian glares furiously in response. I sigh. "Alright, he's in the living room." I step out of his path and reach for the unloaded gun on the little table I keep in the hallway and point it at him as he passes. "But fuck with any of my stuff and i'll shoot you."

The tween clicks his tongue indignantly in response. "An empty threat. As if you would risk shooting a child in your own living space, if you can call this 'living.' Even you are not that incompetent." He's got me. He looks over his shoulder at me . "Besides, the gun is clearly not loaded." How he could tell, I have no idea. A lucky guess, probably.

Damian enters the living room first, and I can hear Tim making the same reference I made in my head when he sees him. "Ugh! Is that a fucking gremlin?!" I think that may have been the first time i've heard Tim swear in the whole six years i've known him. Remind me to high five him for that later. I follow the boy in with the next line. "He's not a gremlin, he's a third grader!"

"Whatever. Just don't feed that thing after midnight." We both start laughing hysterically, and The Double D's look between us confusedly.

"Oh-kay...um, Hi Damian. What's up?" Dick says after a moment.

Damian clicks his tongue again and points at Dick and Tim. "You two morons were supposed to be on patrol last night! Father says 'Something big always happens on New Years Eve', but nobody could contact you! Father eventually went out with Catwoman, leaving me to hunt you down! I wanted to help, damn it, and thanks to you two drunken idiots, I got stuck 'improving my detective skills!'"

"Well, clearly you need to if it took you this long to find us!" Tim sniggered

"That's besides the point!" Damian looks straight at Dick. "You abandoned me! How could you?"

Dick sighs and kneels in front of his little brother, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Little D. Really sorry. We were testing you. Believe me, it wasn't my idea. Bruce wanted to track your progress, and came up with a solution that would suit all of us."

"Which would be?"

"To have Tim and I fall off the radar so that we could test you, and allow Bruce to spend some time with Selina, and allow Tim and I to spend some long-overdue time together and to check on Jason."

"Hold up! You two-"

"Not now, Jason" Tim hisses. I boil in silent fury.

"That doesn't benefit ME, Grayson."

"I know, Damian. We're sorry."

I can tell Tim wants to say "speak for yourself" but I fix him with a glare. I'm i'm not allowed to interrupt these little Hallmark moments, then neither is he. Dick hugs the kid, and Damian just stiffens in his arms and makes a face of disgust. "Let me go, Grayson!"

Dick does and stands back up to his full height with a sigh.

"Guess this means you guys are gonna be leaving me alone now, huh?" I say, scratching an itch in my ear with the gun still in my hand.

"I guess so."

"Good. You idiots are giving me migraines." I rest the gun on the arm of the couch.

"I'm gonna pretend that's the concussion talking, Jaybird." Dick says as he reaches out to trap me in another one of his hugs. Fortunately, he quickly lets go and turns toward the door with Damian.

Tim, however, keeps himself firmly planted on the couch. I clear my throat.

"Oh, right. I was just gonna leave when my shirt was dry so that you could have this back." Tim says, pinching the baggy T-shirt I gave him. We'd put it in the drier just before Damian showed up.

I nod, walking over to the fridge for beer. "Good choice." I open the bottles and come back to sit beside him on the couch, passing him one. "Here."

He takes it and we clink the necks of our bottles together. "Cheers"

We both take a drink and i turn on the TV.

"Now, how's about we watch a bit of Sherlock while we wait for that to happen?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson." I give him the side-eye glare.

"Right. Ugh, yeah, let's."

DDDDDDDDDD

And that's all folks. Hope you enjoyed. Hats off to anyone who got my stupid reference-within-a-reference.

- R. G


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